Nightmares of Destiny
by Anneklok
Summary: Legolas nightly visions take hold of him pressing for what he will make of the future. Please don't hate me folks.
1. So it Begins

Author: Miss A

Category: Poetry   
Characters: Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Legolas nightmares may forge his destiny …  
Disclaimer: The characters are from J.R.R Tolkien and are used without actual permission, although no money is made from writing this soooo as to say, no infringement is intended. Please refrain from sueing. I'm just a poor college student. *sniff*  
Feedback: missannerzz@yahoo.com  
Story Notes: Sorry I didn't run this past you first M. I had to turn this puppy loose. 

**Love. What was that anyway? An indulgent misconception of the mind. A diversion from duty, honor and destiny. He required none of it. Then the pain lashed him, worse than a leather whip a thousand times to his naked back. **

*****

"I feel something," Legolas confided to Aragorn in low tones, "It draws near,"

The darker man's edgy and dark eyes shifted over to the fair elf beside him. "I remember the last time you muttered something like that to me,"

"It's not Orc's. It's something else,"

Aragorn drew his sword in preparation his senses heightened, awaiting. His eyes were far from consuming the figure of Legolas and were panning to and fro on alert.

"How near," Aragorn gritted through his teeth staring forward, as Legolas turned, allowing sensations of the warmth of Legolas back against his own.

Instead of a reply, a slight tickle to the back of Aragorn's neck by an arrow sliding effortlessly from Legolas quiver, answered the question - Within range to snipe. 

"Gimli, ready your axe," Aragorn hissed to the grumbling dwarf making his way toward them from the wood, suddenly at unease taking in the sight of the elf and the man.

"Orc?" he hissed in question.

"No," Legolas whispered back, his eyebrow raising along with his bow.

A moment later a rustle of forest leaves against dirt and the crack of a freshly broken twig alerted the trio to the direction of any company intended to stumble upon them. A dim flash of white and another round of ominous shapeless sounds were the only clues. Legolas raised his bow, effortlessly drawing back an arrow and releasing it, his arm fluidly taking another into his hands possession, readying it. Aragorn moved his body, uneasy to relieve his back from the strange comfort of Legolas own. A blur of white sprang from the trees, rolling a few feet from its cloak of vegetative cover, only to fall still in a heap. None of the trio moved much more than to breath, all unimpressed by the event and merely curious as to if Legolas had hit his mark or not.

Aragorn went forth, sword pointed low to the ground, in preparation of a final swipe to end any threat that may become of the new creature in their presence. Gimli held his axe fast, with the head at level with his shoulder, also ready for a slicing swipe to end any life that bore ill will to the party. However, Legolas' normally fair skin had sunk a shade paler and his eyes were blinking wider with each second that passed. With Aragorns back to the two Gimli alone saw this unusual phenomenon.

"What have I done," the gasp hung on Legolas lips.

Gimli looked to the stunned elf, which had found only enough faculties to release the unspent arrow back to his quiver, before the bow itself clattered to the ground. Aragorn kept his slow pace ignoring the noises from behind him. Legolas looked around, to the east a beach sloping into a river that he could scarcely swim across, to the west the forest, to the north and south a stretch of forest and beach. His sight gracing back to Aragorn found the man reaching forth with his sword blade giving a gentle prod to the figure. Legolas lowered himself to the ground in one movement taking up his bow and slinging it behind him. He looked west and in his mind fashioned a path through the forest. A moan came from the fallen form. 

Legolas bolted. Behind him he could hear the shocked and fully distraught voice of Aragorn choke forth the name of the being. The being Legolas should have known by thought, by scent, by every sense the elf possessed. He hadn't placed the scent and he had fired regardless. This mistake could mean his life. After all what elf could know all the thoughts, reasons and extent of man in desperation. Aragorn's line had declined to destroy the One Ring of Power, such a high treason against all Middle Earth. Would it be so far fetched to think that in any other case Man would flinch to destroy a mere being if it fit their purposes if they troubled not over delving an entire world into peril for the same.

Legolas ran pushing his limits of speed with each swift throw of his legs. Even so his ears could pick up the sound of Aragorn screaming. His voice raging into the heavens the one name that would from that distinct point on give no peace to Legolas. Arwen. Over and over again the syllables marking the Elvish princess. A warrant of death to Legolas by Aragorn. Arwen. A pledge of Legolas demise by Elrond. Arwen. Legolas could feel it. He'd taken her life.


	2. Wake

*****

"Legolas," a firm hand touched to the elfs shoulder jarring him from slumber.

Without a drowse Legolas turned his head, eyes wide with clarity. A sigh threatened to spill from his lips as he realized the scene had been but a nightmare. Still a concerned pair stared into the classic elvish pools. Noses only a hand width apart, lips barely the same, Legolas stared at Aragorn only hoping the Man had not been suddenly gifted to see into another's nightmares.

"What is in your sleep," Aragorn's whisper was decided and fragrant of the drinks they had shared waiting for dusk to pass into night after a meager supper.

"That I wish I knew. As I wake it escapes me,"

Aragorn's hand had not left Legolas shoulder and the warmth of contact was near smoldering as far as Legolas could feel it. Aragorn may not have felt the same, for he kept his intent concerned stare perhaps hoping for a sudden revelation. Legolas looked away before down at his slender callused fingers. After a repetitive inventory of his grime stained digits he looked back to the Man and gave his best deceptive sheepish smile.

"You look as though I've grown a new head Aragorn," Legolas managed an innocent slight grin.

"Perhaps you have," the Man grinned back, leaning back from Legolas also giving allowance to his heavy hand to slide away from the elf's shoulder.

Legolas shut his eyes briefly, remembering in horrific vivid detail, the feelings that washed over him as he realized his arrows mark and took off into the woods. It was a woods they had not yet crossed in their search for Merry and Pippin and certainly a woods he hoped they would not traverse in their journey. It felt so true and so real, like a piece of the past remembered, but certainly not the past – yet. 

Legolas opened his eyes not wanting to give away his lie of a lost dream memory. Aragorn was sat back from him only a foot pace. His arms crossed resting on his drawn up knees. The moon gave the only interrogatory aiding light between them both. Legolas could only ease his heaviness of spirit translating to body behind him against the tree trunk that he had chosen for sleep. Aragorn bowed his head and took a deep breath. He yearned for sleep, but apparently the mystery that he had been privy took up his conscious energy.

"Ranger, have your rest, we go in the early morning," Legolas consoled in vein.

"The 'Ranger' can get no rest with the screams of an elf at night beside him,"

Legolas' head turned, eyes resting on Gimli, a slumbered dwarf snoring.

"Gimli seems asleep. My screams can not be all that loud,"

"Your dwarf has a better friend in his slumber, his greatest friend perhaps other than spoils of war and feasts," Aragorn easily put, raising his head from it's bowed state.

Legolas folded his arms and nodded his head to the side resting it against his shoulder ably. He gave Aragorn an impish wink and closed his eyes.

"Sleep Ranger, I'll button my lips for the rest of the night. You have my word,"

The unpromisable flowed from Legolas lips like the purest hymn of truth. Aragorn couldn't help but give in to belief. His two legs stretched out synonymously with his back slowly lowering behind to the cool dirt of the rocks they had chosen for their place of nightly rest. Legolas watched as Aragorn's body straightened in repose. He waited for the tell tale signs of his chest heaving to signal sleep. 

Legolas lifted his head and sat straight, drawing his knees to his body, much like Aragorn had before him. Wrapping his arms around his knees he lowered his head, no sound allowed as the elf's tears banked, rolling across his fair flawless cheeks, settling to the earth once perspired from his chin. These lonely hours were becoming more frequent and Legolas felt the sting of the tricks played on his mind. He could only hope to pinpoint from where they came and make an end to them. Aragorn would not be the one to let something so blatant scathe by without a reason and remedy. Legolas could not face him with the contents of his unconscious foreboding mind. That would be to have Aragorn distrust him as well as to have Legolas distrust himself.


	3. Senses Dulled

*****

            "You kept your promise,"

            The words broke the silence the trio had kept in starting their journey as promised in the early morning. Legolas turned his head, willing himself to look at Aragorn almost expecting the perceptive man to see through his façade if he continued to swear his mind was not under any nightmares clench. 

            "I had sweet dreams," Legolas managed to spin his lie effortlessly.

            "As did I," Aragorn sighed under his breath. 

            Legolas couldn't find a meaning in Aragorns words, the Ranger strode ahead of the elf thus taking lead in the trio. Gimli followed behind, a pattern of growls, making up his dwarf humming. Legolas was the middle wondering why Aragorn would find it offensive to make any nod toward dreaming of Arwen. It would be nothing new to Legolas as he knew Aragorn longed for Rivendell and his own Princess - Royalty to royalty as each to his own.

            Legolas now in the middle, alone, kept pace evenly between Gimli and Aragorn as they traversed rocky terrain. They were now on a bare road heading toward what looked to be wee mountains. The location didn't matter, the terrain didn't matter; all that mattered to the elf with a furrowing and determinedly morbid brow was when night would fall. When night fell the nightmare would come and he'd relive what he hoped to avoid over and over again. He couldn't say where it came from or why, but it lurked, like the foul feeling of Gollum's eyes through the mines. It swept him up at night and never really let go during the light hours. It had five fingers groping his insides lightly while he walked and cinched his lungs just slightly with each conscious breath he sucked in and sighed out.

"Legolas," his name instantly sparked his interest as it rolled off Aragorn's tongue.

Legolas looked up, eyebrows raising, forming their own silent question in place of words. It was best to be short of words when you were keeping something from being spoken. Aragorn nodded to his side and Legolas knowingly advanced his gate, striding until he walked beside the Ranger.

"There is much quiet in this place," Aragorn's words were low and penetrating to the obviousness of the situation.

"I feel nothing," Legolas evenly replied, pausing to leer his head from side to side to be certain, "nothing out of the ordinary,"

"No creatures making noises, only the wind is making sounds around us,"

Legolas again peered from side to side concentrating on noticing anything that might give Aragorn's paranoia of the peace legitimacy.

"I sense nothing is amiss," Legolas insisted.

Aragorn halted giving Gimli the moment needed to catch to them.

"Keep your weapons close," the Rangers voice was thick with distrust for the area, "I feel no need for lax reactions,"

Legolas and Gimli both nodded Gimli reaching behind him to tug one of his axe's holsters closer to his side so he could retrieve it with ease. Legolas removed his bow from behind him and held it out in the open. The elf would do anything to appease Aragorn, anything to make sure Aragorn would leave him about the dreams and not deduce his preoccupation with the feelings the nightmares left him.

Again Aragorn set the pace and the trio dutifully went in step with the Man, no longer drifting lazily one behind the other, but three abreast trudging along the rocky terrain of the road. Legolas was moving his thoughts around trying not to focus on the unhappy pressing subject. He tried thinking of the reason they walked, Merry and Pippin. That only reminded him of Frodo and Sam, the two hobbits departed to take their own road to ultimately destroy the ring. His face noticeably lowered and he now stared at the ground as they trudged along. He was only vaguely aware that Aragorn was beside him and would notice his now sullen glare toward the dirt and stones and that Gimli would invariably detect something amiss when Aragorn questioned him about it all.

Before Legolas could sigh accordingly or force himself to look straight ahead while pasting on a frozen blank gaze, an itch tugged at the back of his throat.

"Orcs," he literally snapped, his head raising immediately whilst his arm slung back taking an arrow from his quiver.

Aragorn wasted no words and neither did Gimli both brandishing their weapons and keeping glances switching to watch all around them.

"To the east of us, they aren't many, but enough," Legolas hissed.

"The same from Moriah?" Gimli wondered.

Legolas let out a withheld breath, "No, these are different. These are new,"

"Let's leave quickly. No sense in standing in wait, use our speed," Aragorn was off down the path ably, Legolas and Gimli following in toe.

Legolas instinctively groping for the shoulder of Gimli hustling him down the road against his will to receive any help. The elf was not taking chances, calling on more strength then he figured he had, pushed the memory of his nightmares into the far recesses of his mind. They had dimmed his senses already and it was obvious, Aragorn felt the Orcs presence before Legolas had. That troubled him. Aragorn would surely know something had gone wrong with Legolas now. 

The feeling of Orcs descent upon the small group was fading. Legolas slowed his step. Gimli jerked from him looking almost to swing his axe. No words were spoken, but the looks of daggers and contempt shot Legolas way were more than any verbal whipping. Gimli turned from the elf and stalked forward, past Aragorn down the road. Legolas took a tentative step forward, noticing Aragorn standing as Gimli trudged on, waiting. 

"What is in your head, Greenleaf?" The words were impatient but soft.

Accordingly Legolas looked away, partly from shame and partly from the same pride that would not allow him to share his nightmares with the Man. Keeping his gaze planted on the ground below him, Legolas walked past Aragorn, as if to ignore him with all the same acknowledging him. The strong arm of the man thrust forward, palm to Legolas chest, stopping him in his tracks. Slowly, Legolas lifted his head, his eyes sifting through different tones trying to find the correct set to show Aragorn to send his questions away again. Filing through pain, impatience, fear, annoyance and winding all back to the innocent blank stare of a shrewd elf not wishing to explain. Aragorn withdrew his hand, but not without a final stare. This was not the end of Aragorn's search of Legolas by any means. 


	4. Again and Again

*****

            Legolas shrunk back against a tree, his face turning away from the sight 10 strides ahead. With his conscious he moved his head to the side, but the will lasted only but a moment. His nod away from the scene turned back in an onward gaze and a pained wince. Light like feather it all floated within the space of seconds, the scene unfolding like a fast blooming flower in the midst of a sunny downpour. It would have been beauty if it hadn't been horror and the end. 

Her body, wrapped in the shocked state, clenching muscles held still for the one terrifying moment. As if by the grace of a dance she easily slid from the blade. Her cloak floated behind her on the night air, ruffling to the ground before her. Legolas legs departing as he pushed away from the tree, sprinting. He'd been chasing after all, but had stopped encountering too much for his sight to behold and still try to change. She now lay and he crashed beside, his knees taking the full brunt blow to the forests floor. 

Legolas eyes were fixed, widened, eager and they registered nothing of his own body. His head swayed to the side, glancing up at the tall gaunt statuesque body, hand clenched to the hilt of a long sword. Back Legolas head swayed, his hands taking up the chilling hands reaching to cup the wound. Legolas pressed her hands upon her chest. His face suspended in time, still without any shape but that of utter shock and eager desperation, anxiety if there could be such a thing. Lips parted with trepidation of what he couldn't bear, but faced head on. He had gone deaf. The senses of touch and sight were the only that influenced him. The chill to the hands beneath his own, the blood, gorgeous ruby rivers, streaming from between his well-used slender fingers – that stirred him. 

His face was glossy and slick with a film of perspiring, his chest heaved with the evidence of tearing through the woods although he knew not why until now. Aragorn stood, towered, over the two elves laid on the ground. The fair Legolas dropped to his knees beside the equally fair she-elf, the pale she-elf. Legolas looked up his eyes clear, without any indication of even a single tear, despite the story they told by their dazed stare. Aragorn towered still, motionless, stoic looking upon the two, resolute, uninhibited, without blame or guilt.

Legolas watched her breath make shallow transparent clouds in the cold winter air and his eyes widened and creased in pain when the clouds ceased to rise from her pale blue lips. His mouth had been opened slightly since he'd come from his pause at the trees and it still did not shut even releasing the small dormant hands beneath his own. 

The elves' eyes closed for a moment, his head turning at gradual pace to meet with Aragorn unintelligible stare. His eyelids lifted revealing the evidence of no known tears, but the acceptance of the favor he had born so many nights before to Aragorn. Aragorn's sword bearing arm flailed back his sword carelessly tossing behind, his cloak rippling in the same direction from the force. Liquid pain brimming at the corners of his eyes he turned away in the tradition of a muted, sore and bitter anger against his action. The kind that comes with mourning within, the kind of anger faced when a last ditch effort does nothing to remedy a hurt still twisting deep within, mutilating it's owner's entire being.

Legolas turned from Aragorn, elfin hands touching the Departed's fingers with one last caress, before dropping away to the forest floor. They held him up as he blinked, swaying to and fro without discipline or warning. He bowed his head, now allowing his entire body waver forward, spilling him to the ground softly, his cheek resting at her waist. The world spun, literally in his eyes, flailing fast upward, leaving him to doubt everything. He saw himself as the world went round and round and his view shone down upon him, lying, impotently beside the beautiful love given as revenge and reward and to repay a debt Legolas owed Aragorn.


	5. Destiny or Sacrifice

*****

            Legolas heard his own voice shout out as he came from the nightmare that had just ensnared him. This night it couldn't be denied, Aragorn had not been telling tales to get inside Legolas head. The elf could feel the pressure, the taunting unknowing of the future, needling him from within. His mouth was still pursed open wide and his voice was still crying out, in shock, in horror, in realization of all things. It made sense now and it was going to be all to real. 

His hands flew to his face, shutting his mouth, turning off his voice, sliding against painfully hot miniscule beads of sweat loosed all over his countenance. Shakily his legs shook beneath him, stretching, crooking, standing. He was at his feet, his hands loosing his weapons from his side. Legolas bolted even hearing the shouts from his companions and their quick steps never too far behind.

The elf was too quick sprinting through the tiny conglomeration of trees they had bedded down in for rest. He wove through what felt like an old familiar path, cutting around rocks that would have normally struck him to his face if he hadn't had some unnatural clue they were in place. Determined he shot forth through the darkness, racing for what he sought without rightly knowing. His feet halting, they had served well, taking him to the brink of it all – the Cliffside, the chasm below, the expansive gorge to the next cliff straight across. 

Legolas peered down, his eyes wide, wide as they had been in each dream. Pebbles rattled beneath his boot covered feet. In the moonlight he could detect their healthy decent to the below. A heavy sigh ran from his lips as he watched them drop down near weightless and beautiful to their defeat and their escape, a dual purpose and reward. 

The distracting bound behind him took his attention. It brought him back to some senses and he heard the horrible noise, the shouting. He looked carelessly over his shoulder and saw Aragorn and Gimli, both mouths hanging dumbly open, but not enough to speak.  He heard his own voice, over and over shouting and only then did he stop long enough to listen to his own cries. The recollection of the dreams pouring without sense from his lips. He shuddered and shut his jaw fast, the tremor going through it causing a chatter of his teeth.

"Legolas, it was a dream, and nothing more," Aragorn offered, a hand leaving his side its services pointed at Legolas if he should take them.

Legolas shook his head, the blonde whips already picking up with the breeze, swept around him unsure of which force of nature to serve. Gimli grimly stared forth, unsure of words or actions to aid.

"Put away any fear. There are none hear who wish to harm you. Step away, come, this way," Gimli attempted.

"No," Legolas shuddered, shaking his head, "No,"

"Legolas, just take a step back, come away from there," Gimli's hands were both up, swaying back and forth, a comforting motion. 

Legolas watched both his companions over his shoulder a moment, wistfully,

before turning back to the view of the cliff. The breeze below beckoned him, he could feel the nightmare ending and the end whistled at him in that breeze.

            "Do not break this fellowship anymore than it already has Greenleaf!"

            "I can't let this happen," Legolas breathed, Arwen and the elves death fresh in his mind, a preview of what he had to stop from becoming.

            "What plagues you so! What is in your dreams that frightens you and consumes you that you scream and carry on!" Aragorn demanded.

            Legolas heard his forward step and turned back. He turned, face honestly dismayed, and gave Aragorn an impish wink.

            "Take rest Ranger, you leave in the early morn,"

            As Aragorn moved forward arm outstretch to take hold of Legolas garment, Legolas spread both arms and tipped forward, launching himself willingly and in silence over the edge of the precipice. The Ranger and the dwarf both lurched forward. Gimli only managing a stagger and Aragorn taller in stature landing at his knees, head bowed  down taking in the plummeting form of Legolas, gracefully floating downward toward his own end. Aragorn immediately looked away unable to coax the detachment to watch the beautiful elfs final moments and his form in response tumbled backward, landing him sitting.

Before a word could be uttered and cried out, the hair of both Gimli and Aragorn blew back at the force and mercy of a great wind coming deep from within the gorge. Aragorn leaning back onto his knees, peered over the edge, fighting against the sudden great gust of air. Aragorn shielded his face with both arms and unknowingly made ready for the impact of a form thrown from the gorge straight at him. Aragorn with reflex caught the figure under the arms as it's back heaved at his chest, unbalancing him and thoroughly knocking him over onto his back so he was laid down. 

The blink of an eye passed before sense came to Aragorn and he gazed down at the figure reclined atop him, the cascade of straight golden hair, slender build, frightened breath and pounding heartbeat. Legolas whimpered without moving an inch from Aragorns body.

"No," Legolas sighed hopelessly gazing across the cliff to the she-elf that had lifted him from the gorge and arms of death, "I tried, forgive me. I tried to save you,"

Aragorns arms instinctively raised and circled around Legolas to prevent him from attempting flight again. Legolas put up no fight, but went lip, quivering in the grasp of the Man. Aragorn pulled Legolas tighter to his body attempting to quell the shivering from the innocent elf of pale and frightened pallor.

Gimli was on his feet despite the strange and yet wonderful occurrence they had just beheld. His gaze was pointed across the gorge to the opposite cliff and his finger followed pointing his sighting to the other two beings still laid out on the ground.

"There," Gimli judged, "Do you see her,"

Aragorn looked up and over Legolas shoulder, faintly in the distance, only by the moonlight he spied what looked to be a woman standing on the opposite cliff. Her hair was fair much like Legolas and by her posture and angle towards them, she resembled him in height as well. 

Legolas' head hung lazily to the side, his ear just barely touching against Aragorn's shoulder. Even at his visual disadvantage he could make out the form Gimli pointed to. His breath caught slightly before his eyelids drooped.

"Aragorn, please no," Legolas mumbled dropping off into exhausted slumber.

Aragorn looked to Gimli confused, annoyed, anxious and worried for the weary companion in his arms.

"An elf?" Gimli guessed.

"So it appears, what with the wind," Aragorn mumbled slipping his arms from around the now harmless Legolas as he thought of the miraculous feats he'd seen Arwen contrive.

"What think you of her, Man of Gondor?" Gimli questioned watching as the elf took seat at the edge of the cliff.

"I think she deserves gratitude and our kindness,"

Legolas lay whimpering and shaking, the memory and significant facts of his nightmares washing away their aid devalued by his step into the future he should not have been granted. His fingers gripped tightly to Aragorn's arms, folded around him, bathing him safety for the moment.

His good deed to all outdone by an unwitting foil to his plot of self-destruction. Instead he'd envoked her and found her in trying to erase her death from destiny. In the deep recesses of sleep, his recollection of the truth distorted and wasted away, he felt something for her, something deep, some meaning he couldn't place. He only knew he would have given his life for her and that only registered one thing in his age old mind. This feeling for her to come would be as much pain as a thousand lashes of a leather whip against his naked back yet his destiny ached for it. 


End file.
